I have an ulcer. It has an IQ of 185.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I was hoping I was going to get an ulcer. I was hoping to boost my research career by developing a bleeding ulcer.
Before the 20th century, the ulcer was not a respectable disease. Doctors would say, 'You're under a lot of stress.' Nineteenth-century Europe and America had all these crazy health spas and quack treatments.
My IQ is somewhere between Spiro Agnew's and Albert Einstein's.
I'd just turned 50, weighed 285, and my doctor had read me the riot act about my health.
I tested in the top percentile for IQ, but I couldn't tie my shoes or really ride a bike without training wheels until I was almost 7.
My cholesterol went from 220 to 149. I was crying like a 'Biggest Loser' contestant when my doctor gave me the news.
I don't have ulcers; I give them.
My father put it right when he said: 'I don't get ulcers. I give ulcers.'
I'm not the type to get ulcers. I give them.
I'm going to do my best to do both and die of an ulcer at age 30.